


Worth the Delay

by NorthwesternInsanity



Category: Def Leppard, Music RPF
Genre: Flu, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 14:18:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13928835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthwesternInsanity/pseuds/NorthwesternInsanity
Summary: Sav comes down with the flu during the recording process of Pyromania. Joe takes care of him, and decides that missing a deadline is worth it for the well being of his best mate





	Worth the Delay

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a Rockfic Ficmas 2016 gift for used not-enough-duff, the request being a sickfic with Sav and Joe.

Joe Elliott pushed his foot down on the gas pedal, flooring it. He sped down the abandoned back roads of Sheffield with reckless abandon, in the direction of the house of his best mate: Rick Savage.

The reason he was driving in such a hurry to Sav's house was because he'd repeatedly made phone calls to him all afternoon, and Sav had yet to answer a single one of them.

On top of all this, Sav was sick. Very sick. He'd been too ill to sing backup the last time he'd been in the studio four days ago, and he'd also generally just not been well. He seemed confused and unorganized, as if he didn't have his thoughts together, and it was totally unlike Sav to not be collected and have his shit together. It was to the point which even Mutt Lange and Peter Mensch had agreed that Sav was too sick to work in the studio, and even though they hesitated to do so and weren't happy about it, they sent him home that day.

_"You have a fever and every other symptom of the flu. It's contagious! If the whole lot of you get sick and are down for the count then we're really up a creek without a paddle. Go home, and the rest of us will do what we can in the meantime,"_ was Mutt's order to the sick bassist.

Sav, despite how sick he truly was -he was clearly having trouble breathing, his eyes were glazed over as if unfocused, and he was coughing a lot -trying to pull his shirt over his mouth so he didn't get anyone else sick, had tried to protest it.

_"I'm so close to having all my parts done -I only need to finish recording for Comin' Under Fire and Stagefright,"_ Sav had argued weakly.

"You'd still have to wait until you got better to finish, because you can barely sing. We tried all day yesterday and got nowhere, and now you're ten times more ill today," said Mutt. "You guys all complain that I act like a slave driver, so unless you want me to force you when you're sick, go home, get rested, get better, and know exactly what you want to do with that bass on those tracks when you get back."

So Sav did go home, and he had taken a small recording device with him so he could experiment with what he wanted at home, and try different things. Joe continued working throughout the week with Phil, Rick, and Steve, using what they had that Sav had already gotten done, and making note of what Sav still needed to do when he was better and could come back. Joe also called Sav at least twice a day to see about two things- a: How Sav was doing, and b: what was his progress on his ideas.

Sav had answered every phone call every day. Sav had also answered the phone whenever Mutt, Phil, Steve, Rick, or Peter Mensch were checking up on him. Joe had wondered if Sav had gotten tired of his twice or more a day phone calls from him.

But then, before leaving the studio for the day, he'd tried to use the studio phone, and after not getting a response, he'd decided to ask Steve.

_"Hey, Steve, have you tried to call Sav and not gotten an answer today?"_ Joe had asked.

_"Yeah, I did. We had a couple alternative ideas for Stagefright, and I wanted to ask him which one he thought would go better now that he's coming up with ideas for the bass line. I called, and so did Mutt, and neither of us got an answer, mate."_ Steve had looked a bit grim answering Joe's question, as if he too knew this wasn't a good thing.

_Shit!_ had been Joe's response.

All this less than ten minutes before now, in his car, speeding down the back road through Sheffield toward Sav's house.

He got there in under ten minutes -it wasn't that long of a distance to begin with. But it felt long to Joe not knowing what the bloody hell was going on.

Parking his car and running up to the door, Joe knocked to make sure to give Sav a chance to open the door if he was able before using the spare key. Simply opening the door might scare him.

"Sav? For fuck's sake, mate, are you alright in there? I've been calling you all bloody day!"

Joe didn't get an answer. Again, _not good_. He swore.

"Damn it!"

Sighing, Joe dug out the spare key Sav had given him from his pocket. The singer was just going to have to take matters into his own hands.

"Alright, mate, I'm coming in," he warned, just in case Sav could hear but couldn't answer.

It was silent for the most part, when Joe slowly pushed open the door after unlocking it. He listened carefully for a sign of life. 

Very muffled, as if through a closed door, he could hear an ungodly amount of coughing.

Following it, Joe went upstairs and pushed open the door to Sav's bedroom and was greeted with one of the most pathetic sights he'd seen.

Sav was curled up on his side under a heavy duvet, cocooned inside multiple extra blankets underneath it and still shivering. He was broken out in perspiration, causing his thick, curly bangs to stick to his forehead in damp, missed strands. Sav would never be caught dead with his hair in such a state unless he was dying. His face was so flushed -obviously burning with fever, and when he wasn't squeezing his eyes shut with misery, his eyes were unfocused and watery. Joe could tell he was having trouble breathing through his nose, and he seemed to wheeze between the coughs as if he was unable to catch his breath at all.

"Sav? Bloody Hell!" exclaimed Joe.

Sav flinched and tried to sit up, but it was quite obvious he was too knackered to do so. Joe could see as he tried to reach a hand out of his blanket cocoon to prop himself up that he was shaking quite badly.

Joe came up to the bed, and reached out toward Sav. Sav looked confused for a second, as if his thoughts weren't entirely clear.

"Joe?" he rasped out breathlessly. "What 'ya doin', mate?"

Joe placed the back of his hand against Sav's forehead, and nearly snatched it back. He didn't need a thermometer to know that it was way higher than okay. In fact, this fever was probably dangerous.

"Fuck's sake! Have you had any ibuprofen?" asked Joe.

"No," murmured Sav. "Can't-" 

He broke off in a heavy coughing fit again.

Joe shook his head and went downstairs to the kitchen. There, he fetched a glass of cold water and a dose of ibuprofen tablets, and brought it back upstairs to Sav.

However, when he got back upstairs, he found the bed vacated, and heard retching down the hall in the bathroom. Going in, Joe found Sav clinging to the toilet. It was beyond Joe how Sav had walked there given he could hardly sit up, which led Joe to believe Sav had probably crawled to the bathroom to be sick, and was lucky to have made it there in time.

Joe frowned. He set the glass of water and the ibuprofen tablets down on the sink counter, and knelt down on the floor next to Sav, cautiously pulling Sav's hair back from his face in hopes he hadn't already gotten vomit in it. Luckily, he hadn't.

"Mate," groaned Sav, collapsing against the wall by the toilet as he finished heaving his guts up. "What 'ya doing here? You get sick at the drop of a hat -you're going to get yourself sick!"

"I've gotten done almost everything I have to do unless Mutt decided he's got another damn problem with it, so it's not a crisis if I do," said Joe firmly.

"I bet you'd find it to be a crisis if ya did get it. Bloody hell, Joe!" Sav moaned, holding his head. "Me whole body hurts, and I'm hot and cold at the same time!"

"It's because you have a fever," explained Joe. "Speaking of which..." He retrieved the ibuprofen and water from the sink. "You probably are even more glad to have this now that you've gone and hurled."

Sav snatched the glass with weak, shaking hands, nearly dropping it, and gulped half the water before finally taking the pills and swallowing them. He was quite desperately thirsty from sweating out the fever, but going downstairs when he felt so drained was behind him. And vomiting in addition to that was repulsive. For a few seconds, it was heavenly, then his shivering came back with a vengeance. It was to the point he felt he might get sick again, but he didn't.

"Come here," ordered Joe, stretching his arms out to Sav. There was no way he was crawling down the hall back to his room. 

Sav cautiously leaned forward to Joe. Joe got an arm around Sav's back, then managed to get his other under Sav's legs, and hoisted him up bridal style, his factory-injured back protesting.

"You're going back in your bed, but you have to take off some of the blankets until your fever goes down," explained Joe. Helping Sav back into his bed, he assessed the spare blankets Sav had cocooned in, and took the inner-most one, which was damp with sweat. 

"This one needs to dry off anyway -it's not making you feel any better."

Sav moaned. 

"Joe, when is this going to stop?" Sav looked so miserable. He was still a bit green around the gills following his episode just now, in addition to everything else that had made him look so pathetically ill when Joe had walked in the bedroom door.

"Sav, mate -you're sick. With the flu! You have to rest -it's been four days only, usually it's a little more than a week at the least-"

"We're never going to get this album done at this rate. Mutt is going to pitch a bloody fit!" Sav pouted.

"Well, mate, we're already behind schedule, so we might as well accept we're not going to meet our originally planned deadline, alright? To fucking hell with that deadline! I'm sick and tired of hearing about it -so fuck it! We'll get the album done when we finish, and it's going to kick ass! I say you don't even touch your bass today, or tomorrow, and focus on resting up," decided Joe resolutely. "Your recovery is worth the extra time."

Sav shook his head, trying to curl up in the fetal position to abate the shivering that kept going through him, pulling the blankets that Joe had left him around himself.

"Hey," said Joe. "Mate -relax!" He sat down on the edge of the bed and tried to fluff Sav's messy hair closer to its normal resemblance with his hand. "Of course, if you don't want to relax, we could debate soccer teams again!"

Sav groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Oh you, you just won't ever give it up, will you?"

"No, I won't -until you finally accept it how much Wednesday sucks," prodded Joe.

_"You_ suck!" retorted the bass player indignantly. "Never mind United being worse!"

Joe laughed. He tried to stop it by covering his mouth, but it came out through his nose in a huge snorting sound, which just made him laugh harder. There was a small bit of chuckling from Sav at first, mainly from Joe's snort, but then he stopped, really not finding it funny and feeling quite sullen.

"Oh, you, be qui-" Sav started to protest and broke off with a violent sneeze that caused his eyes to tear up and his nose to block. Joe laughed harder when the sneeze came through -it'd made quite an interesting noise due to how forceful it was -though Sav couldn't really determine if Joe was really laughing at it, or just carrying on. Sighing, he gave up, and reached for the box of tissues he'd placed on the nightstand, proceeding to clear his sinuses some, and then watched Joe impatiently.

Joe finally stopped and saw Sav, lying back propped up on his pillows, looking sullen, and nearly wistful. His expression quickly changed to that of concern, though still a hint of a smile held in his voice.

"Aw Sav, mate, I'm sorry. Hey..." He reached out and touched Sav's forehead again, trying to gauge whether his temperature was beginning to come down again. His eyes did look more clear, and he definitely didn't seem to be clinging to his blankets in the desperate way he was before. After a second, Joe determined it was starting to come down.

"Feeling a little better?" he asked.

"I was cold before, and now I'm hot," Sav grumbled.

"I bet some future groupies would agree, especially once we start touring big time," quipped Joe.

"Oh, stop! You-!" Sav weakly grabbed one of the pillows out from behind him and made a half-hearted swing of it at Joe. The pillow barely grazed Joe's arm with a light poof! sound. 

Joe started to laugh again, and this time Sav laughed too, tucking the pillow back behind himself.

"They probably would. That aside, as unpleasant as it is, that's good. Your fever's coming down from before."

"Well, that's peachy," murmured Sav sardonically. "If only I could actually feel better with getting better."

"You'll feel better soon," chuckled Joe, deciding to affectionately hug his best mate just to see how he'd react to it. As usual, with the times that Sav came down ill and became really bad off, he was a bit clingy, and he held on to Joe.

"You're gonna get yourself sick," mumbled Sav again, though still holding on and resting his cheek on Joe's shoulder.

"I probably am just from walking in the door -and even without it, I probably would get it at some point knowing me just because the flu's going around town. Doesn't make a difference now then -might as well bring it on and get it over with," determined Joe, finger combing through Sav's hair again and fluffing his thick bangs back out. As if he could tell what position they were in, Sav reached one hand up and made a final adjustment to his hair, still holding on to Joe with his other.

They stayed that way for about ten minutes in silence, with the exception of intermittent sniffles and coughing jags from Sav. Joe didn't flinch away from it, but instead gently rubbed Sav's back, trying to abate the shudders that came from such violent coughing which usually induced nausea. It would be insult to injury for Sav to cough to the point of getting sick a second time.

The coughing fit passed, this time no resulting worship to the porcelain god, but simply tear-dampened eyelashes from the force of it.

"Here, mate," said Joe, passing Sav some more tissues and getting up from the bed.

"Where are you going?" asked Sav, almost frantically as if he didn't want Joe to leave.

"I'll be right back in a few minutes, mate, the others wanted me to call and give an update. Just relax," assured Joe.

Joe went downstairs, put water in the tea kettle, and then went to the phone and dialed the studio. Peter Mensch picked up.

"How is he?" asked Peter.

"Downright miserable and run down from fever, but he'll be alright," assured Joe.

"Was he being stubborn about it?"

Joe laughed. "Of course, Peter, what else did you expect? He's moaning about not being able to pick up the bass and play when he could barely sit up when I first got here because his fever was running so high."

Peter frowned. Joe of course couldn't see this, but he could hear it in the change of Peter's voice. There was something about the way Peter talked that made his voice readable over a wire. 

"Joe, if he's that bad off, we might need to keep an eye on him-"

"His family is nearby -we can let them know if it comes down to that and have them decide if he needs to go to the doctor again. But I think he's alright, he was just in a bad way when I got here. I could check in on him this week if need be." And Joe was willing to do this -every day -if it was what Sav needed. Heck, if he had to cut out the drinking for a week so he could get here in the morning before time in the studio, he might consider it even.

"Okay, Joe. Well, thanks for helping him out and giving an update -hopefully he'll be back in order soon. I talked to Mutt, and we pushed back the deadline. It's not going to happen on time, so make sure to tell him not to worry about it."

Joe grinned. He _knew_ that deadline just wasn't going to happen -now he had something to do an "I-told-you-so" tease with when Sav was feeling better.

"Thanks, Peter. I'll let him know."

Joe hung up, perfect timing right as the kettle started to boil. Five minutes later, he made his way back up the stairs with a cup of hot tea.

Sav lay back on his pillows, gazing off into space. When he saw Joe, he tried clumsily to sit up again.

"Here," said Joe, helping Sav sit up. "I brought you a cuppa -knowing you, you'd have gotten one if it weren't all the way downstairs."

"Oh, Joe, mate. Bless you," sighed Sav, leaning against Joe's side again.

"You be quiet. It's nothing mate. Unless you feel the need to make it up, in which you can do so when you're better and I'm sick," Joe quipped.

Sav smiled weakly and sipped the hot tea, not saying much. Joe could tell he was beginning to get sleepy again, which was a good thing, as it would encourage Sav to not worry about things, he'd get more rest, and he'd be less likely to have such raucous fits of coughing while asleep.

"Peter pushed back our deadline, by the way. He managed to get Mutt to agree. So don't worry about this," said Joe.

Sav nodded, resting his cheek on Joe's shoulder again and closing his eyes. He stayed silent, as before, less coughing this time. Joe held Sav again, patting the bass player's back soothingly, this time to relax him rather than soothe his flu symptoms. 

After five minutes, Sav fell out cold. Joe gently lay him down on his pillows and pulled the duvet back over him. He touched Sav's forehead once again. This time, it felt almost normal. Affectionately, he smoothed Sav's bangs back into place.

"Get well, mate," whispered Joe, getting up from the bed. He then exited the room, and left the house to go home. Sitting down in the driver's seat of his car, he checked his watch, finding the time to be 6:30 PM. Time to go home for the evening. He had to finish off his nightly tasks earlier tonight, and get to bed earlier. Because he'd made up his mind. He would be back here for Sav. In the morning. Early. 

Because if it helped his best mate feel better, then it was worth every second of his time.


End file.
